


Fairfarren, Friends from Farove

by thesadchicken



Category: Alice In Wonderland - Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland (Movies - Burton)
Genre: Everyone is happy and having fun, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Nonsense Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:53:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27669821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesadchicken/pseuds/thesadchicken
Summary: With all her best friends around her, Alice feels light as feather. Perhaps she truly is a bird, after all.Underland shenanigans, nonsense poems, and tooth-rotting fluff.
Relationships: Alice Kingsleigh & Friends, Tarrant Hightopp & Alice Kingsleigh
Kudos: 7





	Fairfarren, Friends from Farove

**Author's Note:**

> This could take place any time after the movies or the books; I truly believe that Alice could never stay away from her Wonderland for too long.

Alice was running so fast she might as well have been flying. And perhaps she was, in a way: after all, if the ground were the sky and the sky a river, wouldn’t that make her a bird? She laughed, a little giddy, and tried not to bump into the trees as she soared through the forest. She had reached the outer part of it, where the roots grew awfully restless and came out to trip people who passed them by. The branches, equally mischievous, reached up and down and caught you by the elbows and knees. Luckily, Alice was accustomed to their games. She ducked and jumped and twirled out of their reach, laughing, laughing, laughing.

She emerged from the forest covered in colors; yellows and greens and purples and reds, flowers and twigs and weeds and leaves. They stuck to her hair, buried themselves between her golden curls, and somehow found a way into her shoes. Her dress, blue as a borogrove, fluttered behind her. Daylight fell upon the meadow in heaps, while little balls of sunshine bounced across the faraway mountains. The bread-and-butterflies chased the snap-dragonflies, and the snap-dragonflies chased the wind. Alice ran faster still, chasing it as well; it sang for her, _Alice, Alice, Alice_.

There was a stream that ran backwards, and one could never jump over it of course, nor under it for that matter, so Alice kicked her shoes off and ran straight through it. The water kissed her ankles, and a frog or two waved at her. She knew they’d steal her shoes—they could never resist a good pair of slippers, even if they were too big for their slippery little feet. She didn’t mind the stealing: she had no intention of going back for her slippers anyway. Shoes could be tiresome things. They always required a foot to move, and would never respond when she whistled for them. Quite frankly, she was sick of having to do all their walking for them.

Before she could reel in her wandering thoughts, she tripped and fell onto the grass, where she rolled and rolled and rolled. The flowers made quite a fuss, but Alice kept rolling down the hill, leaving tiny puddles of laughter behind her and throwing a splatter of mirth on the ground.

She finally came to a stop at the bottom of the hill, where the grass was the greenest and most of the flowers were fast asleep. The mushrooms grew larger and cushioned her head like the softest of pillows. She fell back, panting, but couldn’t keep the smile off her face.

A few seconds later, the Hatter tumbled down the hill the same way she had, except he rolled in the wrong direction twice and had to be pushed about by the flowers, who were very annoyed by now. He finally reached the right side of the hill and stopped rolling. He fell on his back next to Alice, giggling like a March hare.

“I won!” he cried, clapping gleefully.

“You arrived second!” Alice protested.

“Right this second,” the Hatter nodded.

“No, I mean—I was here first.”

“Wonderful, then you must’ve seen me win the race!”

Alice shook her head, smiling still. “Alright,” she shrugged. “I suppose it’s only fair.”

The Hatter’s eyes seemed to grow bigger, greener. “Thank you, Alice,” he said solemnly, as if it were the greatest honour. Then he smiled at her, and patted his head. “I seem to have lost my hat.”

“It’s right here, Tarrant,” said the Cheshire cat’s disembodied voice. Carried on a wisp of smoke, the hat in question floated towards them.

“Thank you, Chessur,” the Hatter reached up and grabbed it out of the air. He immediately shoved it behind his head, using it as a pillow.

Chessur’s grin appeared, floating above the ground. The rest of him followed, slowly; first the eyes, then the nose, the head, the body, the paws, and finally—almost as an afterthought—the tail. “A shame, the way you treat that dear hat,” he complained.

Alice thought it was hard to look sorrowful with a grin that large, but somehow Chessur managed to convey his disappointment. The Hatter only smiled and pointed at a cloud. “That one looks like hopefulness!”

“And that one looks like Absolem!” Alice exclaimed, pointing at another cloud. “When he was a caterpillar, of course.”

The Cheshire cat sank lower and lower, until he was lying on the grass just above his friends’ heads. He yawned, curling up into a ball. “To me they all look like tea cups. Oh, the others aren’t far behind, by the way,” he added. “It’s an interesting race; you never know what’s going to happen.”

“But Tarrant’s already won,” said Alice.

“Not for long,” purred Chessur.

A moment later, Thackery Earwicket leapt over the hill and slid all the way down, with Mallymkun perched on the top of his head, holding both his ears like reins. He threw himself to the ground right between Alice and the Hatter.

“We won!” cried Mally, pointing her dressmaker’s pin at the sky.

“Aye, we did!” Thackery agreed breathlessly.

“For now,” said Chessur.

In the expectant silence that followed, a rocking-horse-fly landed on Alice’s hand. She held it up for her friends to see, chuckling when it buzzed and chirruped. Mally jumped up and down, trying to mount the insect like a regular horse. The Hatter tilted his head to the side, observing the myriad of colors that flickered on its wings.

“I will make you a hat that looks just like this,” he announced. “A Rocking-Hat-Fly!”

“I can’t wait to see it,” Alice replied.

“You could do far more than see it; you could even wear it, if you wanted to.”

“Thank you, Hatter.”

The sound of four strong paws striking the ground made the rocking-horse-fly shudder and fly away, and over the hill came Bayard the Bloodhound, ears and tongue flapping behind him. He stopped abruptly and fell at Alice’s side, placing his head on her stomach.

“I guess that makes you the winner,” she told him as she gently rubbed his ears.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Bayard shook his head.

And down came Tweedledum and Tweedledee, shoving and kicking each other all the way. Exhausted, they reclined on the grass; Tweedledee next to Bayard, Tweedledum next to the Hatter—or was it the other way around?—and they all formed a perfect circle, with Chessur curled up in the center.

“I won!” said Tweedledum.

“No, I won!” cried Tweedledee.

“You both won,” Mallymkun sighed, exasperated.

But right then, Nivens McTwisp appeared on the horizon, hopping nervously down the hill. He held his pocket-watch in his paw and kept glancing at it, which upset him greatly and made him stumble several times. When he finally reached the others, he looked around him miserably.

“Why is it that I’m _always_ late,” he whined.

“McTwisp,” Alice laughed, “you won the race!”

“Me?”

“Of course.”

It was very funny, the way McTwisp’s eyes widened; and the way his ears twitched; and the smile of utter delight that crept onto his usually-worried face, making his whiskers curl upwards. “Oh my, I won!” he chortled in his joy, and jumped right into Tweedledee’s arms. Or perhaps it was Tweedledum.

“Congratulations, Rabbit,” Chessur said gracefully.

“Well done, McTwisp,” added Bayard.

“I want a rematch!” demanded Mally.

There was much clapping and cheering, and even a few insects joined in. Then a comfortable sort of silence fell upon the meadow, and everyone sighed happily.

“I’ve been considering words that start with the letter ‘F’,” said the Hatter.

“Fun!” exclaimed both Tweedles.

“Frabjous!” cried Thackery.

“Futterwacken,” grinned Chessur.

“Friendship,” said Alice.

The Hatter smiled at her, and she smiled at him, and for a moment Time seemed to have turned his mighty clock back to that night on the balcony, when they’d stood together, and it had felt like standing at the edge of the world, _only a dream, only a dream. I’ll miss you when I wake up_. Perhaps that was the night she’d regained her muchness; it certainly was the night she’d understood something of the utmost importance: that she need never be alone. And now, with all her truest friends around her, she felt it again, the same warmth. Light as feather. Perhaps she was a bird, after all.

Tarrant’s voice rose into the sweet afternoon air, and they all listened as he recited;

“Fairfarren, friends from Farove  
We shall meet again, my heart  
Time may be jiddly as a tove  
But such slifles cannot qlink us apart

Far away, fears and flunders   
Fiends both foul and frumious  
Begone, maiths agrunders  
And crogs ever so denumious

Four times for a fort  
And three times for a house  
Twice for a comfort   
And once for a mouse

Free as a marmkin   
Boyous as a name  
Singin’ and larkin’   
Our jiddles all the same

Us together  
Glochous weather  
Here forever  
Bird and feather

One two five nine  
In the meadow we dine  
Bread-and-butter then some wine  
Trinkle-doves rise and shine

Now,

Fairfarren, friends from Farove  
We shall meet again, my heart  
Time may be jiddly as a tove  
But such slifles cannot qlink us apart”

  


**Author's Note:**

> I love them all so much ♡
> 
> This story made me write nonsense verse for the first time, and it was _so much fun_. Inspired of course by Lewis Carroll's poem "Jabberwocky".


End file.
